Robert Frost Youth Poet Program Winners Announced

UNH co-sponsors annual statewide contest

EDITORS: The winning poems from each county are included for publication.

DURHAM, N.H. -- Jean-Luc Bouchard, a fourth-grader in Mrs. Tremblay's class at the Liberty Street School in Hudson, has been named the 2002 Robert Frost Youth Poet for the state of New Hampshire.

Bouchard's poem titled "New Hampshire Fall: A Walk in the Woods with Dad" was his interpretation of this year's theme "New Hampshire: Our Land":

Moist leaves form a red carpet
Welcoming us into the woods
The familiar path leads us up a steep hill.
Dad points out distant mountains
Covered with skin of rock, like the scales
Of a great lizard.
The ground beneath is overrun by an army of ferns
Still barely green, dreading the first frost.

Chanterelles, boletes, porcini, hen-of-the-woods
Make up little huts-villages
Hidden beneath fallen trees.
Day says: "Watch out for amanita, the angel of Death."
The pines rise above us; Roman columns
Holding up the sky, protecting maple ad oak.
White birches stand out among them all,
Their bark peeling and revealing dark flesh underneath.
The urge to touch is in my veins.

A granite chair awaits me
My favorite place to sit, think and watch Dad
Watching migrating birds. I see no deer
But part of me feels that they see us.
Dad tells stories on the way back.
My mind wanders away from the woods,
Until I trip-over a root or rock
Reminding me (like a slap in the face)
That I'm still here.

Bouchard's poem was selected from 650 entries in the annual contest sponsored by Dimond Library at the University of New Hampshire, the Trustees of the Robert Frost Homestead, the state Department of Parks and Recreation and the New Hampshire Poetry Society. The Robert Frost Youth Poet Program is supported by funds from the Finisterre Fund of the New Hampshire Charitable Foundation.

In addition to the statewide winner, a youth poet is chosen for each of the state's counties, and runners-up also are selected. All winners will be honored Saturday, June 22, at noon at the Robert Frost Farm in Derry and the poems will be preserved in a permanent archive in UNH's Dimond Library. Following is a list of winners from each county:

I was walking home
When I saw a beautiful field
With animals grazing
The wind blew the grass
The grass started to sway
Soft and gentle
As the ocean softly throws a wave
As I listened closely
I could hear the wind whispering
As soft as a sheep's wool feels
I was walking home
When I saw a beautiful field.

New Hampshire, full green forests, flourished,
Tinted with unimaginable colors.
A stream softly trickles through this dream,
Providing a smooth musical touch to the scene,
From which dreams emit.
So many people long for a place like this,
New Hampshire will forever remain a beautiful
Paradise.

Have you ever tasted the rain
Coming through a big green canopy?
On a sunny day?
Its water coming through leaves
like a shower.
Trickling down through your hair
and through your dry lips, and
brings you delight.
Green is like a big green canopy.

The ripe New Hampshire land,
Is rugged and tough terrain,
The hills going on forever,
The beauty pulled in through your brain.
The rocks and giant boulders,
Are the grandmas and grandpas of trees,
With the great starry moss growing on them,
They are friends to the wasps and the bees.

The grass, the trees and the flowers,
Standing tall like an army of men,
They are proud of the land that they live on
It's been like this since I don't know when.

The flowers are bright,
With a soft green background,
Look in most places,
They are all around.

The bright and dull colors,
Play like a marvelous band,
You can hear them, touch them, and smell them,
Reach out with your ears, nose, and hands.

The glorious mountains reach to the sky,
What a marvelous thing to see,
They provide homes for animals,
And good hiking for you and me.

Almost four hundred years ago,
New Hampshire was discovered,
They people who found it saw,
The richness they had uncovered.

I took a walk in New Hampshire
one day in my land, in our land.
I took a walk to look and see
to see my land, to see our land.
I walked into a forest green
and every thing looked so serene.
The trees, the rocks, the moss, the air
in my land, in our land.
I came onto a forest pond
and every thing was peaceful there.
A beaver swimming to his lodge,
a mink hiding in the reeds,
birds flying high in the sky,
willows swaying in the breeze.
I hear the engine of a car
and know my journey's done.
So I take a last look around
and walk off towards the sun.

The world looks all around like granite.
The sky is gray; the ground looks dead,
But brush away the cold, hard, dirt,
And you'll see startings of little life.
Tiny green sprouts slowly rise from the earth
As if frightened and shy. Under patchwork snow
Soft green moss soaks moisture up
Like a wet dog's fur. There's a bold new brook
Under ice so thin that even a mouse
Cannot go across to the far bank's shoots.
What is it now that startles me so?
A hawk I see, that seizes the mouse.
I watch the bird with his flaming eye.
He drops the creature to the ground.
Spring in New Hampshire, growth on her mind.

New buds on the trees,
Time to wake up honey bees,
Put on your cap,
Go collect some sap,
New grass shooting up,
Now you can go walk your pup,
Time to plant little flowers,
Springtime seems to bring new powers,
Snow is melting into streams,
Time to think up new dreams,
New Hampshire is changing fast,
Now take a look at its past.

The beauty of purple shadows,
Sparkly white snow,
The crunch of leaves beneath your feet,
Dainty petals on green stems,
Shooting from shiny grass.
All are a part of New Hampshire's beauty.
Queen of nature and life;
Sparkling crystal fountains,
Bright green grass,
Fresh, clean air.
Things like these
Put the golden crown
on Her Majesty,
New Hampshire.

New lilacs smelling sweet.
Everybody come to see our leaves change!
Winter covers Mt. Washington with a glittery blanket of snow.
Hiking Tuckerman's Ravine is a challenge.
An old man on the mountain way up high.
Maple syrup ready for tapping
People so kind wherever you go.
Shopping at the outlets the mothers go.
Hunting and trekking through miles of wilderness.
Ice cream from a farm a cool summer treat
Racing down Attitash through blinding sleet!
Everyone come to our state and you won't want to leave.

If you walk into
The sunlit woods
You will see
Toadstools and mushrooms
Like mouse umbrellas
With smooth white stalks
And young ferns curled like
An infant's fist
So soft and green
And fresh
Jack-in-the-pulpit with
His deep purple cap
Preaching in a
Pulpit of green
And wild flowers
Of tiny pink bunches
With the bees and
Butterflies hov'ring round
The soft green moss
Cushions your bare feet
And if you look carefully,
Among the birches you might
Glimpse a fairy with the sun
Flashing on its wings.